


The One Who Didn’t Run

by Banannamilkk



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft EVO
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Gen, Minecraft EVO players, Watchers, honestly still don’t know how to tag, wether the eve players are gone is up to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banannamilkk/pseuds/Banannamilkk
Summary: He never questioned the watchers' intentionsFor thousands of years, he followed the watchers word, invading into worlds and leaving riddles, punishments, and rewards. He liked making games for the players of the worlds, filling pits with lava and small parkour platforms. The watchers never told him what happened to the players who failed or passed these tests, it wasn’t his business.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 130





	The One Who Didn’t Run

He never questioned the watchers' intentions

For thousands of years, he followed the watchers word, invading into worlds and leaving riddles, punishments, and rewards. He liked making games for the players of the worlds, filling pits with lava and small parkour platforms. The watchers never told him what happened to the players who failed or passed these tests, it wasn’t his business. 

He hadn’t been given a name, you had to earn your name with your status. He was at the lowest of the low, as his traps and riddles never hindered the players in the slightest. He vowed to work harder and earn his status

.

.

.

So he continued..

More buildings 

More traps

More lava

More riddles

The watchers were good people, they rewarded the good, and punished the bad. 

...so why did players run in fear when he arrived in their world?

Monster, they would scream while running to hide. 

"Destroyer" , they would scream while charging at him. Poofing into non existence with a flick of his hand when they got too close.

Didn’t they know he was there to help? To seize the selfish players, who stole the rewards for the good. He was doing what the watchers were doing for centuries.

The watchers told them that more and more ignorant players were filling worlds

He had to do a better job in disposing of them.

.

.

.

His riddles got harder, traps more deadly, punishments more severe. He left fewer rewards, as he knew rarely any players were deserving of them.

In return, they started leaving traps for him as well. 

Setting tnt where he would enter the world, hoarding mobs in the area, and setting redstone mechanisms that would douse him in potions of harming. 

The mobs wouldn’t attack him, they weren’t that stupid, and the redstone was easily corrupted by his powers. The most the potions did was get his clothes dirty until it evaporated in the sun.

The tnt however...he realized he loved it. He loved the thrill of hearing the sizzle, similar to a creeper, he loved the damage it did.

His traps became more deadly, and disposing of players had never been so entertaining. 

The watchers never told him to stop, they encouraged it, actually. It rid the world of bad players so much more efficiently. 

He was doing an amazing job, they told him. 

So he continued 

.

.

.

He met a player a little while after entering a new world. This world was freshly created, and he had the task of monitoring it full time.

This player had a kind smile, always cheerfully talking to his friends in the world, and always liked listening to music in his red and blue headphones.

But most importantly, he never ran away.

The other players warned him to stay away, to keep safe and not die. But he approached Grian while he was engraving a riddle into a sign.

He talked to him as though they had been friends for years, never once showing any fear to the fact that he could very easily die at any moment.

Taurtis, he called himself, with a cheeky grin as he stood a few feet from him, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet.

He didn’t respond to him, but he told himself he would remember his name

.

.

.

And he did

Every morning when he would check up on his world, Taurtis would greet him with his big smile and a breakfast for the two of them to share.

He never told Taurtis that watchers didn’t eat. He sat with the man as he rambled on and on about his plans for that day, barely even touching his own food.

One day he asked him for his name. 

He didn’t have an answer, so he told him he wasn’t deserving of it yet.

Taurtis wouldn’t take this as an answer, gasping and shaking the watchers shoulder, having no clue if it was anyone else they would’ve been dead by now.

"You have to have a name!" Taurtis would tell him all the time. "Everyone deserves one", he would repeat. The watcher would just shake his head. Players could never understand the watchers` ranking.

One day, he was helping Taurtis with his farming; sifting his hands through the grain without thought when he was startled with Taurtis’ loud yell.

"Grian!" He shouted with a gasp, lips quirked up in a smile when he saw the watcher's confused expression. Taurtis told him that it could be his name, as the grain they were farming matched his sandy blond hair.

Grian only shook his head, a name for him would never stick.

.

.

.

Until it did

Taurtis began calling him that whenever they hung out, the other players getting in on it too. 

They no longer told Taurtis to stay away, instead accompanying him when the cheerful man would see him. He had hated the name, it was taken from grain. It was demeaning. He would never respond to it

Until it’s who he became, he realized. 

He was Grian.

Grian learnt to build with materials other than obsidian and bedrock. He made an empire made of snow, and huge, amazing buildings using materials his friends had shown him.

Yes his friends, he became closer and closer to them everyday. Netty and Taurtis pulled a day from their schedule and made him an entirely new outfit. It was amazingly different than what he wore before. His loose, black slacks were replaced by a pair of grey skinny jeans(which at first he despised), his purple watcher robe was tossed aside and in its place, Netty had knit him a soft red sweater to keep him warm. 

He adored it. He adored them.

He was their family, and they were his. 

.

.

.

The watchers were angry. 

Their pet, that lowlife, newborn watcher, had stopped reporting back to them.

His structures had stopped. 

His traps

His riddles

His mayhem 

It all stopped when he was assigned to that world. 

He was mingling with the players, learning from them and acting like them. They had even given him a name.

How absolutely disgusting

He would be taught a lesson. One that would keep him from straying from their goals, forever.

.

.

.

Everything was on fire around him, he couldn’t see his friends, he couldn’t see them anywhere. 

Where were they? He tried tapping into his magic to locate them but it wasn’t working- it wasn’t working. 

He screamed out their names, screamed until his voice was hoarse as he ran through the burnt lands.

“They’re gone,” a voice behind him said calmly, the voice made Grian freeze before he slowly turned around. There in front of him was a watcher, the head watcher to be exact. They had a sick grin on their face as they noticed the absolute terror in his eyes.

”This is what happens when you mingle with these disgusting creatures,” they sneered, arms stretched out to emphasize the absolute chaos that was once his home.

He knew the disasters he left behind when he was working in worlds a watcher, but he never knew how the players felt. Until now. He absolutely hated it. He wanted to scream and cry, beg for his friends to be brought back, but he knew it was futile. 

They were gone because of his selfish desires. He wasn’t deserving of his name. He couldn’t even protect the one person who gave it to him.

”What now?” Despite his best attempts, his voice shook with his fear. He balled his hands into fists, glaring up at the watcher, knowing the tears in his eyes made him look even more pathetic.

“For your crimes, you shall atone for thousands of years” the watcher said, a chuckle near the end as they lifted their hand. 

”They’re gone because of you”

Is the last thing he hears before his vision goes dark. 

.

.

.

He woke up in total darkness, the air around him cold and unwelcoming. From what he could tell, the pure black abyss expanded around him forever. 

He was in the void. 

He sat in silence for a few moments before the weight of the situation really hit him. 

He punched the ground, letting out a scream of anger, anger at himself. He caused his friends' disposal. They were gone.

If only he hadn’t been so stupid

He screamed out to the void, finally begging for something, anything to save his friends. Take his life, take whatever they needed from him just don’t hurt his friends. 

He was met with silence 

He let out another scream, this one of aching sadness

.

.

.

Grian had lost count after the first year. 

He couldn’t tell when it was day or night, at times he assumed he had slept for days, and others a few hours. 

His first few years he didn’t do anything but cry and scream. He would sit on the ground, holding his red sweater close, thinking of Netty and screaming at the void for any reassurance they were safe. 

He was never met with anything but silence. 

It taunted him

The only thing keeping him company was his own voice, and he hated it. 

He didn’t want to hear the voice of the person who killed all his friends. 

He walked around most of the time, until his legs ached and he would collapse on the ground. he would pass out for a week at a time(he assumed it was that long) then get up and repeat the cycle.

He would dream about his friends a lot, about what they had done together, all the amazing memories he had of them. He slept a lot, trying to relive all the memories again but soon, even those were gone. His dreams were replaced with nightmares of the day his friends were ripped away from him, their screams blaming him for this echoing in his head.

He wanted out, he wished he could go farming with Taurtis again, play pranks on Netty, have huge server dinners at his empire.

But one part of him knew he deserved this. He deserved all of this.

.

.

.

He awoke with the void splitting open, bright white light flashing across the void. His eyes burned after all these years in complete darkness

Was this death? Was it finally his time?

He didn’t have time to think about it as the ground below him split open and he fell through, a scream of shock tearing through his throat.

.

.

.

Grian and Taurtis sat on top of a tall building, the warm sun falling behind the landscape in front of them as it got darker and darker

"Why didn’t you run?" He asked Taurtis, looking down at the ground below them

Taurtis looks up at him, a warm smile on his face.

"Because everyone is good in some way, you included," he said as he reached over and pulled Grian over by his shoulder

"I chose to look past what other people saw, and I’m glad I did, because we wouldn’t have been friends." 

Grian hugged back, humming in agreement, and it felt as if all was right in the world. 

"Hey Grian?" 

He looked up to acknowledge the man. 

"In a world where you can do anything, be kind, and let yourself be happy, okay?" 

.

.

.

He opens his eyes with a gasp from the dream, which turns out to be a mistake as the bright sun burns his eyes, making him tear up as he covers his face quickly. 

He stumbles from his position on the ground, standing on shaky feet. The sand crunches under him, and he almost cries at the feeling of it.

He can’t have his cry though, as the noise of a nether portal opening in front of him distracts him from it. A nether portal opens in front of him, making him take a quick step back. He isn’t used to the unsteady ground, this is proven by the fact he trips over his own feet.

Out from the portal comes a man wearing heavy green armor, a grey helmet covering his head. He’s looking down at glowing screens in front of him, so he doesn’t notice Grian on the ground in front of him.

Grian wants to run, to hide away from the man. He won’t let himself hurt more people, the fact that this could also be a trick of a watcher crosses his mind and he wants to cry again thinking about his friends.

Grians distracted by his thoughts when he gasps in surprise as he finally looks up, noticing the man in front of him. 

They both stare at each other with wide eyes, not moving and staying frozen in place.

Grian opens his mouth to speak, to tell him to stay away, he’s dangerous and will only hurt him, but he’s cut off as multiple people fall out of the portal and onto the man dressed in green , Grian counts at least 15 or so.

They’re all laughing, pushing and pulling on each other in the giant pile of them, not noticing Grian sitting in front of him. He manages to get himself into a standing position, legs feeling like jelly as he stares at the pile of laughing players.

They remind him of his friends, how even when Grian would tell them he hated hugs, they would pile onto him into a cuddle puddle. He never admitted to loving those moments, but he was sure they all knew he did.

"Someone’s here" , the man wheezed, all the players on top of him probably making it difficult to breathe and talk. The players looked confused for a moment before a short woman noticed Grian, and soon the rest of them did as well. She looked up at him, an excited smile on her face as the players stumbled to be standing around him.

It made Grian nervous, he felt cornered. He wanted to run, but with all of their eyes on him it would be hard. 

"Sorry for the...interruption", the armoured man smiled, or Grian guessed he was from the way the corner of his eyes crinkled.

"I’m Xisuma, and these are the hermits" , he told him, holding out his hand.

Grian stared down at it, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else, they didn’t deserve it, from the looks of it they were all a family, he couldn’t intrude. 

He wished he was back in the void. 

Realizing Xisuma was waiting with his hand held out, he reached his own out and shook it. Xisuma's grip was firm, slightly pulling him towards the so called hermits with a grin.

“Welcome to Hermitcraft.”


End file.
